


The Legends of Gracey Manor

by lightning_troubadour



Category: Haunted Mansion (Ride)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Is it really canon divergence if there's no set canon though?, Multi, Murder, Suicide, backstories, lots of deaths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2018-11-06 07:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11031162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightning_troubadour/pseuds/lightning_troubadour
Summary: The backstories of some of Gracey Manor's most notorious happy haunts.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings, foolish mortal! The short stories you will read in this work are based on a headcanon timeline by yours truly about a year or two ago. However, life caught up with me and I was unable to write them out....  
> Until now. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, I've put quite a bit of work into this little passion project!

It was a dark, warm Louisiana night. It had rained for a good part of that day, and now the sidewalks shined with puddles while the humid air hung heavily around New Orleans. The sky was dark and cloudy, with no starlight, and the full moon only appearing in increments between the clouds. The fresh smell of distant rain was all around. The back roads were filled with the noise of birds and the occasional rustling of leaves, but the sounds of nature around were broken by the sound of an engine. In a decently-sized silver sedan a few years old, a young woman drove down the quiet, rarely used road toward Gracey Manor. This was what she had been waiting for her whole life, to see the most haunted building in America in person. Very few documentary crews were allowed in, and even fewer ghost hunting shows were allowed in. She had heard the warnings the locals gave about going in there when they weren't doing tours, but the tours were only done at specific times of the year, and she couldn't have afforded to go at any other time but the fall. It stated on the Louisiana Historical Society website that tours of Gracey Manor were strictly prohibited in the fall because this was the time of year when the spirits were believed to be the most active. _Bring it on,_ she thought to herself, _I can handle anything._

As she approached the gates of the mansion, she could see why the locals were so scared of it. Gracey Manor itself was an imposing building, with dying, overgrown grass and shrubbery, and a cemetery out front. The building itself was magnificent, an old, white mansion reminiscent of a plantation house, though it seemed to lack the plantation. She was not about to risk smashing her rental car through the gates of this place and potentially angering the spirits, so she parked her car outside of the gates, grabbing her black satchel and decided to attempt to climb them. Just then, the black metal gates opened, as if the spirits were inviting her in. The young woman strolled through the path to the mansion's front door, and though she couldn't see any signs of life, or after-life for that matter, she felt as though she was being watched. 

Straightening her back and holding her head up high, she did her best to walk calmly to the door... until lightning struck and she screamed like a small child as the booming thunder caught her off guard. It began to pour down rain around her, and she bolted for at least the front porch, hoping her camera and phone wouldn't be affected by the downpour. Once she jogged up the wet stairs leading between two white pillars and under the cover of the porch, she immediately breathed a sigh of relief before turning and knocking on the door, to see if perhaps the ghosts would be so kind as to let her in before she resulted to using the hair pin and screwdriver she brought to break into the place herself. "Hello? Is anyone home?" she asked, and knocked on the door again. "I don't mean any trouble, please, the weather's horrible and...my car..broke down." she lied aloud. _Oh, I hope they can't read minds...or hear heartbeats,_ she thought to herself, crossing her arms across her chest to keep warm after being soaked with rain. 

Luckily, the doors opened up, and she cautiously stepped into the foyer. "Hello?" she softly asked, trying to contain her excitement and keep her voice from shaking. She looked around at the light brown walls of the foyer, amazed that she was really in the real Gracey Manor. 

Supressing her smile, she began, "I'm really sorry about all the trouble, my car broke down so I came in here to see if you had a phone, my cell has no signal, or I would have called for help myself, and then it just started pouring out of nowhere!" She continued, walking into a small gallery with four interesting portraits on each wall, "Oh, who am I kidding, I don't even know if anyone lives here! All I know is that I wasn't staying in that rain any longer!" She awaited a response, and hearing nothing, bowed her head in shame. She was standing here, talking to no one in America's most haunted house! If there was ever a sign of being absolutely bonkers, this was it. She then looked around at the portraits before her. In one, there was a beautiful young woman with dark hair standing on a tightrope. In another, there was a dignified gentleman in a tuxedo standing proudly. The third and fourth were of an elderly woman holding a rose and a man with his arms crossed. She looked at the time on her phone for a second, 12:30 AM, and then looked up. There were now two men in the last portrait, and now that she looked around, the more she noticed of the pictures. Before her very eyes, the portraits seemed to change! The tightrope walker was standing above a hungry alligator, the proud man was standing on explosives, the elderly woman was sitting on the grave of what was implied to be her dead husband, and there were three men on one another's shoulders, sinking into quicksand! She thought she could nearly hear laughing from a distance. "By God, I've lost my mind!" she exclaimed aloud in pure shock. 

She immediately turned around to check the first portrait one more time, and when she did, out of nowhere there was a man. She shrieked, absolutely startled by his sudden appearance. Could he be one of the many ghosts of Gracey Manor? _If he was, he did a pretty good job at hiding it_ , she thought, _he looks as three dimensional as a living person._ She took a moment to look at him, as he tilted his head and said in a deep, sonorous voice, "My apologies, did I frighten you? That was not my intention." He was a very tall, thin man, it was apparent by his shoulder-length snowy white hair and by the lines on his face that he was older; and he was missing his left eye, but the right was a bright blue. While he wasn't the kind of man you'd see on a magazine cover, she couldn't help but find him oddly handsome. 

After taking that second of looking at him to compose herself, she softly asked, "Are...are you..."  
"Dead?" he interjected, "Yes, my dear, it would appear so."  
"Huh," she murmured, "isn't that something." Immediately, she changed the subject, "Erm, sir, I was wondering, would it be possible for me to use your phone? I don't know how much you've heard from earlier, but I can't even use my cell phone, there's no signal here."  
"I really am sorry, child," he said, "but we don't have a phone here. Would you like to stay here until the rain stops, then see if you can find a signal? I'm really not sure how the whole 'cell phone' thing works, I wasn't alive to get one."  
"Yes," she nodded, with a calm smile, "I would love to. Say, do you mind if I ask you a question, sir?" she proposed.  
"I don't see why not." the man replied.  
"Who...exactly, are you, anyway?" she asked, shifting nervously and hoping he wouldn't get angry at her prying. "As in," she continued, "what's your name?"  
"My name is Alistair, Alistair Crowe," he answered, "and while we're on the topic, might I know yours?"  
The young woman remarked, "Well, I'm Beth. Beth McDermott. Nice to meet you, Alistair." She extended her hand to shake his, and he shook her hand in turn. His hand was as cold as a block of ice, which surprised her, seeing as how nine times out of ten she was the one with cold hands.

Alistair held out his arm, offering to lead her, and softly said, "How about I show you around a bit? We haven't had visitors in a while."  
She took it, and replied, "Well, if you insist." 

As they walked through another hallway of portraits, each seeming to ever so slightly change when she looked at them, Beth turned to Alistair and said, "There must be a lot of history in this house."  
"Of course there is, Beth!" he exclaimed. "With nine hundred and ninety-nine ghosts here, there is more history than even books could cover. Each of us has lived a life, we all have a story to tell."  
"Would you mind telling me some?" she asked, trying to avoid sounding coy or flirtatious toward a dead man who was much older than her when he passed.  
"Hmmm," he paused. "I'm sure _some_ of my housemates won't mind, any rumors you've heard that you'd like me to clear up?"  
"Nothing I can think of right now," Beth replied, "I know I read a book about this place once, but I can't remember too much of it... Perhaps, you could tell me your story?"  
Alistair, slightly taken aback, smirked and said, "Well, my dear, I don't see why not..."


	2. The Legend of the Ghost Host

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter references suicide, which may be triggering to some.

"I could get into the specifics of when I was born, my parents and whatnot, but really up until I turned fifteen nothing too particularly interesting happened in my life," Alistair remarked as he and Beth walked through a hallway full of portraits.  
"If it makes you feel any better," Beth replied, "my childhood wasn't very noteworthy either."

_Alistair Crowe was the son of two Baltimore innkeepers, Catherine and Edward Crowe. Born a twin, he and his sister Amelia both possessed tall frames, copper-red hair and cornflower blue eyes. While her eyes glowed with kindness and whimsy, his burned brightly with curiosity. Their lives up until they turned 19 consisted of mostly the same: helping Mother and Father run the inn. Occasionally, Alistair would have to break up fights between rowdier patrons of the inn and the tavern they kept downstairs, or would have to step in to protect his sister from said rowdy patrons on the nights when she worked as a serving maid. However, the Crowe twins' lives would change forever on a bustling May evening in 1862 when a young political hotshot named Robert Gracey entered their tavern._

_Catherine turned to her son, who was working with her behind the bar since it was so crowded that night, and half-asked, "Wonder what a man like that is doing in a place like this?"_  
_"Can't imagine, Mother," Alistair joked, "Perhaps he's blind, and he's mistaken this place for a lavish hotel. Or, the poor blind soul might have mistaken it for his mistress' house."_  
_She smacked her son lightly on the arm while stifling laughter to avoid drawing any more attention to the man as he sat down at a table, and Amelia hustled over._

_Her bright blue eyes and kind soul had enchanted the young merchant, and soon enough Amelia Crowe became Mrs. Amelia Gracey. The wedding was more lavish than the Crowes could have imagined, and the couple seemed as happy as two young lovers could be. A year later, Alistair recieved a letter from his sister informing him that she had just given birth to a son and a daughter, twins just like them, and that she was simply dying for him to meet his niece and nephew. And so he came to his sister's husband's estate to meet them, where he was greeted warmly by his sister and brother-in law. However, things would not always be this happy. Alistair had planned to stay for three nights, but on the second, a gang opposed to Gracey's election had set the house ablaze. Alistair was awakened by the sound of faint screaming from down the hallway. He bolted out of bed to see the fire blazing down the hall, and hearing his sister's screams, he called out her name. She cried out in return, begging him to forget her and save the children, and thus he did. By the time he ran out of the house with a twin in each arm, he turned to find it engulfed in flames, an image he would see in his nightmares for the rest of his life. When the local police force arrived, they had originally suspected Alistair of lighting the fire before one detective found a note nailed to a tree calling Gracey a "no-good lying bastard", signed by "J.S. and Co.", later proved to be Johnathan Sapp, an influential anarchist._

_Now without a sister and with two children, Alistair focused all of his time and energy on running the family inn and raising his niece and nephew as if they were his own. Mr. and Mrs. Crowe helped out when they could, but they were getting older, and running the inn wasn't any easier when one set of hands was occupied with raising orphaned family members. Alistair didn't mind, though. Parenthood may have been stressful, but the older the twins got, the easier they were to handle. Eventually, the girl, Lillian, ran off to marry a circus ringmaster when she was 16, and the boy, William, had joined the Navy when he turned 17._

_After six years of fret and worry from the whole Crowe-Gracey family, William Gracey finally made his current state known, with an exciting letter sent to his uncle; the letter informed Alistair that William had acquired a great amount of wealth while in the Navy, and that he was building a marvelous mansion in New Orleans, a mansion that he wanted Alistair to move into, since he had essentially been the young man's father._

At this point, Alistair stopped his story, and mused, "Now that I think of it, I think I know where I put the letter. Would you care if I stepped away for a second to go dig it up?"  
"No, not at all," Beth assured, "I mean, if you're comfortable with sharing it."  
Almost within an instant, Alistair was gone, and now Beth was seemingly alone once more in Gracey Manor, the most haunted building in America. She took a look around the hallway she was in, having realized that she was paying so much attention to her noncorporeal companion's life story that she hadn't even looked at the paintings around her. As she roamed around the hallway, making sure not to stray too far from where she was when Alistair left, she had noticed that these paintings were very similar to the ones in the foyer in the fact that they, too, seemed to change before her very eyes. A lovely black-clad maiden reclining on a couch metamorphosed into some sort of werecat, a stately ship went to ruins upon a stormy sea, and both an armored knight and the horse he mounted turned to bone. But the portrait that struck Beth's eye the most was that of a young man with dark brown hair and the same electric blue eyes as Alistair's. Those eyes were breathtaking to her, so much so that when she had finally snapped out of her little trance, his handsome, youthful face had decayed to bone! Beth jumped back in shock, and bumped into Alistair, who had been standing right behind her. She yelped fearfully at his unexpected reappearance.  
"So," he chuckled, "I see you've found my nephew's portrait. He really was a dashing young man, took after his father. He's much less inclined to visitors than I am, but I'm sure I can coax him out and introduce you to him, if you'd like to meet him."  
"Yes!" Beth beamed, immediately adding in a calmer tone, "I mean, sure, if he'd be willing to meet me. I bet he's got some stories of his own to tell."  
"Anyway, the letter," Alistair said, placing the old, yellowed piece of paper into Beth's hands. 

"Dearest Uncle,  
I know it has been a long time since I have written to you, and for that I apologize with every beat of my heart. I have become very successful with my naval ventures, and from it, have obtained a large sum of money, possibly even greater than that of my father. It is with this money I have built a most grand manor just outside of New Orleans for my betrothed and I, and it is there that I will begin to set up my own trading business, as I have made friends and business partners in several ports. You must meet my Emily, Uncle. She is an angel among women, a living muse, and the love of my life, my heart, my soul. She is everything man could ever want in a wife and more, and I'm sure when you meet her, you will most certainly agree. We will be the happiest of families, she and I, and I would like you to come join us in our home. You sacrificed everything to raise Lily and I, and the least I can do for you is provide you with the life you deserve. No more will you have to endure the harsh winters in Maryland, or work day in and day out to make back the time and money you lost when my sister and I were young.My home is your home, just as your home was once mine. Please respond soon, Uncle, and inform me if you intend to come live with us here in New Orleans, for I would not even dream of forcing you to come with us if you do not want to. However, I am more than happy to arrange your transport to New Orleans should you choose to stay. You are family, after all.

All my love and good wishes,  
William R. Gracey."

"My nephew always was a sweetheart," Alistair murmured fondly. "Anyway, as you can imagine, I gladly took up my nephew's offer..." 

_After having to take several trains to finally reach his destination, Alistair had finally arrived in New Orleans. He was met at the train station by his excitable nephew, who had grown a good bit more into himself over the past six years. He had grown taller and filled out his frame more, he would have nearly been the spitting image of his father, if not for the dazzing blue eyes he had inherited from his mother's side of the family._  
_"Uncle, I'm so happy you've come to live with us!" William exclaimed, leading his uncle to the carriage that would take them to the newly built mansion, "And so is Emily! Oh, I've told her all about you. She's simply elated to meet you._ "  
  
_"Nonsense, Uncle Alistair," William replied, "She has such an open heart and kind soul, she will be very pleased to have you as an uncle-in-law. Anyone would, I think."  
As they got into the carriage and pulled off toward the manor, William gushed about his fiancée the whole ride. Unfortunately, Emily would not be able to move into the mansion until after the two were married, but she came over every once in a while to see William. She was, just as William had described, a kind, gentle woman, with long platinum blonde hair and two amber eyes that seemed to radiate their own aura. She was from a very rich family in New Orleans that had been around for a while, so while her family was not very pleased with her choice of groom, it was not very hard for the pair to convince them that the late politician's son may be more of a help to their reputation than harm. However, while William and Emily were consumed with the bliss of their upcoming wedding, Alistair became consumed with something very different._

_For most of his life, Alistair had been a skeptic about things beyond explanation. His grandmother believed herself a psychic, he thought her just a mad, though amiable, old woman. She thought that he had inherited her abilities as well, claiming that the Crowe family's paranormal abilities always skipped a generation. He, of course, thought that to be nonsense of the highest degree. However, as things turned out, it was Alistair who was on the wrong side of the argument: Not only were ghosts real, but he could in fact see them and hear them speak to him. During the building of the mansion, two carpenters, a Mr. Arthur Davis and Mr. Jacob Coats, had passed away in horrific accidents, and their spirits stayed in the mansion. They would cry out to him, beg him, plead him to listen to them; that they were real, and that they needed his help to pass onto the other side. Even after the psychic Emily insisted upon calling to the house to divulge the fate of her and William's marriage confirmed that there were ghostly presences in the house, Alistair still refused to believe it, taking the psychic's cryptic riddles and nonsensical "prophecy" for the manor as proof that she was merely a con artist trying to terrify the young couple._

_Alistair was afraid. He was so very dreadfully afraid of the voices he heard, the men he saw, and they wouldn't leave him alone no matter what he did. He believed himself mad, he had to be, it was the only explanation. After all, some cousins of the Crowe family had turned out mad before, with symptoms just like his. But he knew where madmen like them went, he had heard about the horrible things they did to patients in asylums and how he would essentially lose all human rights in such a hellish place. He kept his visions to himself, for as long as he could. Weeks passed, and the spirits would not let up. He knew his facade of wellness was fading, even Emily, who had barely known him, noted that he seemed different. He wasn't eating as much, he wasn't sleeping at night, even the hobbies that once enthralled him were fruitless. One dark, stormy night, a few days before his nephew's wedding, Alistair had determined that enough was enough. After wishing his nephew good night, he knew what he had to do. There was a small room not far from the foyer, with a high ceiling. Sneaking a ladder and some rope from the basement into the room, he climbed to a horizontal beam as the two spirits that plagued him insisted that he reconsider everything, and that he was making a mistake. He tied his noose around his neck, sat on the beam, and listened to the storm around him one more time before leaping off._

"Killing myself was probably the biggest mistake I had ever made," Alistair lamented, his head hung in shame. "I thought it would solve everything, that maybe the ghosts in my head would go away. But, as you can see, Beth, it turns out that ghosts are more than just the visions of madmen. I don't think I'll ever forget the morning after I took my own life. Not only was I completely wrong about everything, but I had to watch my nephew find my corpse. I had never seen him so heartbroken in my entire life, he's still never really been the same." He then turned to Beth, and taking both of her hands in his own icy ones, implored her, "I know that you've probably heard something like this before, Beth, but if it ever comes to it, please don't do what I did. It's never worth it."  
"I won't," Beth vowed, tightening her grip on her noncorporeal friend's pale, cold hands, "Believe me, I won't."  
"Good," he trailed off, nodding his head and letting his hands slip through hers.  
A silence fell over the two, as they stood completely still. Beth reached out and placed a hand on Alistair's shoulder as a melancholy semblance of a smile appeared on his gaunt face.  
"Thanks for sharing your story with me, Alistair. It takes a lot of guts to talk about stuff like that. Losing your family, feeling like you're going mad, taking your life, that's heavy stuff," Beth empathized, "You shouldn't have had to go through all of that."  
"Oh, it's no trouble. I'm glad you were willing to listen, it's quite nice to know that someone actually wants to hear me talk," Alistair replied.

Suddenly, the pair heard disembodied footsteps not too far from where they were standing, and turned when a silvery, confident voice cried out, "Hey, Uncle, you didn't tell me someone was here!"


	3. The Legend of Master Gracey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm back from my hiatus! I am so, so dreadfully sorry that this took as long as it did. A lot of things got in my way, and I only had time to work on this chapter in small chunks at a time. Thank you so much for sticking around and waiting for me to come back, you have my eternal gratitude and love. I should be writing more chapters for this soon, in time for Halloween.

Appearing before Alistair and Beth was William Gracey himself, the beautiful youth in the portrait Beth was just looking at. He smiled at them, with a relaxed posture and crossed arms. 

"Well, William, I'm surprised you were unaware that we had a guest, surely you could hear the new voice in the house," Alistair said to his ghostly nephew. "This is Miss McDermott, her car broke down and she's currently spending the night until the storm subsides."  
"Please, just call me Beth," Beth added nervously.   
"It is so wonderful to meet you, Beth," William said, taking Beth's hand in his own cold ones and raising it to his icy cold lips. It was a showy gesture, one that couldn't help but make Beth giggle.  
"Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself, William?" Beth asked, "Your uncle has told me a good bit about you already," you said with a smile in Alistair's direction.   
William's pale face seemed to flush a bit as he looked at his uncle nervously, as if wondering how much you knew already, and he said in a cheery voice, "Come, why don't we walk and chat for a bit? I can show you around the library a bit." He took your hand and led you toward the library and walked quickly with you, turning to Alistair and saying, "Don't worry, Uncle, I'll bring her back safe and sound!" 

To say that Beth was confused was an understatement. Why did William have to separate her from Alistair to talk to her? Was there something more insidious going on that he wanted to save her from? Or was he planning something insidious himself? She felt her stomach turn as she thought of all of the possibilities, after all, she was in an old, haunted building that was pretty far from main roads and other people, and the locals wouldn't even go in here to save their own lives, let alone a stranger's. "Erm, William, where are we going?" she asked, trying to hide the fear in her voice.  
"Oh, just to my study," the dark-haired ghost replied with a smile.  
"Why do we have to go there alone?" Beth inquired further.  
William leaned in and whispered in her ear, "Because I've got some secrets I have been dying to tell someone, and not even my uncle can know them."

Beth's eyes widened, as they approached the study. It was a luxurious room, with a large desk, a fireplace, tapestries on the walls, and large, very comfortable looking chairs near the fireplace.  
"You can sit down, you know, I may be a ghost but the chairs aren't," William chuckled.   
Beth sat down in one of the chairs, sinking into it a bit, and said, "So, you said you have some secrets you want to tell me. Why me? You've just met me about three minutes ago."   
"Well, you see," William began, "it's really quite simple. No one will believe you." He sat on the desk as he continued, "You won't have any proof, historical or otherwise, of what I'm going to tell you, and quite frankly even if you did try to tell one of my housemates they'd take my word over yours in an instant. Some of them have known me for centuries, you know, and they'll have known you for an hour at most." He then came over to the chair, clasping Beth's hands and dramatically dropping to his knees, accentuating the action by mustering what Beth would arguably consider the best baby blue puppy dog eyes she had ever seen. "If you even told a soul what I'm about to tell you, it would eventually get to my uncle and it would devastate him. And you wouldn't want to break my poor uncle Alistair's heart, would you? Besides my sister and I, he doesn't have anyone else!"   
"Okay, okay, I won't tell anyone!" Beth exclaimed, trying to keep herself from laughing. Wow, he seemed serious, despite his flamboyant and somewhat goofy nature. What secrets could he have that would break Alistair Crowe's heart?   
"Alright, alright," he said, getting up and seating himself in the chair next to hers, scooting it closer to hers as well, and he began in a hushed voice, "Where to begin on the story of William Robert Gracey?" 

_  
William Robert Gracey was born, alongside his sister, Lillian Mary Gracey, to Robert and Amelia Gracey in a beautiful mansion not far from Baltimore, Maryland. His time with his mother and father was short, however, because the Gracey house burned down when the twins were 6 months old. Had it not been for the intervention of his uncle, he and his sister would have joined them in death that day. William and Lillian grew up in their uncle Alistair's apartment, frequently causing trouble for their nervous uncle. They were mostly raised by him and their paternal grandparents, and when the two siblings weren't fighting over something or causing some other trouble in the Crowe house, they went to school like any other child, nearly completely unaware of their not-so-humble beginnings. As they got older, when William wasn't out playing games with the other local boys or attempting to woo the local girls, especially his sister's friends, he was much more taken to reading and art than anything else. He would stay up all night reading Shakespeare, Hawthorne, Austen, and anything he could get his hands on._

_As he started to help out at the Crowes' inn, he realized, much to everyone's surprise, that he wanted to go into the Navy.  
"William, are you mad?" Alistair cried out, his hair prematurely gray due to stress, "They'll eat you alive there!"  
Lillian simply burst out laughing, "Billy, you actually had me there for a second," before her face went pale and she realized he was serious. "Oh, dear..."_

_Everyone doubted him, but William went off to the Navy anyway, he was determined to prove them wrong. Was he a bit waifish? Yes. Was he pretty? Extremely. But one thing he knew he was above all else was strong, and if serving his country was what he had to do to prove it, that's what he would do.  
_

"Wait, hang on a second, you were a soldier?" Beth asked, surprised.  
"Yes, yes I was," William beamed, running a hand through his dark brown hair.  
"Wow, I must say, I am surprised. You don't look like the type," Beth replied, "But, thank you for your service to our country!" She added nervously, not wanting to offend him.  
William smiled and said, "Oh, thank you, Beth. It was worth it, believe me. Anyway, where was I?" He said, leaning back in his chair and putting a hand on his chin. "Ah! Of course!"

_  
William barely made it through training for the Navy, but he was overjoyed when he made the cut. He was set to sail out in 2 weeks, and spent them closely with his family._

_Lillian and Alistair implored him not to go through with it, but he couldn't be swayed.  
"Uncle, Lilly, look at where I am now! I made it through training, if I can do that, who else knows what I can do!" he said, with equal parts of joy and frustration in his eyes. "You have to understand, this is for the best, really!"  
"We can't afford to lose you," Lillian sighed, "First Mother and Father, then Grandfather, now you?"  
"You won't lose me, Lilly!" William said, gripping his sister's hand tightly, "I'll be back before you know it!"_

_On the day William left, he hugged his sister and his uncle tightly, trying not to cry in front of his fellow sailors before turning and walking off to the ship.  
A few weeks of sailing in the Carribbean all ground to a shocking halt when their ship was attacked by pirates. After about a half an hour of battle, William was kidnapped by them and held prisoner in a pirate ship. Slowly but surely, he began talking to the pirates that occasionally came by to bring food and water, and regailed them with stories and poetry. For a prisoner kept only for ransom, he was surely a good source of entertainment. Soon, the pirates let him out of the cell they kept him in and allowed him to walk around on deck. Before he knew it, he soon became second mate, then first, then eventually Captain of the ship after a small outbreak of disease killed those before him. _

_William was given the moniker "Captain Blood" due to the red coat he wore on the ship, and due to the fact that being on a pirate ship hardened his heart to human suffering. He was more than content to give the order to raid and kill, under the circumstances that no prisoners were to be taken and that women and children were to be left alone. Anyone who disobeyed Captain Blood learned that his mercy only went so far.  
_

Beth stared, jaw agape with surprise. This cherub-like face was the face of a pirate? "You..."  
"I know, I know what you're thinking," William said, hastily grabbing her arm, "It wasn't my proudest few years, but it was worth it. His eyes darkened as his grip tightened on her, adding, "And you will not tell my uncle, or anyone else, a word of this. I have worked very hard to keep that part of my past a secret, and I will not have you ruin this for me. Do you understand?"  
Beth gulped and nodded.   
"Wonderful!" Master Gracey said, letting go of her arm and beaming. 

_  
About four years later, William returned to America, setting up in New Orleans with the money he earned from his less than luminous past and began establishing a trading business thanks to his old ties. He became very popular with his peers, and soon was brought into higher class society by them. At a gala during the spring of that year, he met the beautiful Emily Cavanaugh, the daughter of a very wealthy landowner. He immediately became smitten with Emily, and she returned his favor. After a few months of courtship, the two were set to be married, only under one condition: her father declared that if William was to marry her, that he must build a splendid house for the two of them to live in. William agreed, and he hired architects and workers to start building the Gracey Manor on a large plot of land outside town. The construction of the house took months, but eventually, it was ready to welcome its new residents. It was at this point that William wrote to his uncle Alistair, insisting that he come live with him in New Orleans to give him the life he deserved. Alistair had worked himself to the bone to provide for him and his sister, he deserved to finally have a break from the constant troubles and be able to live comfortably. When he found out Alistair had accepted his offer, he was overjoyed. Getting Alistair adjusted into the new house was simpler than expected, he only brought small luggage with some clothes and family heirlooms, so there wasn't much to unpack. However, his dear Emily insisted upon seeing a psychic to make sure the marriage would go well._

_"What? My darling, you're being ridiculous. We don't need some con artist off the street to tell us whether or not we will be happy together!" William cried out, "You know we will be, we love each other!"  
"Yes, I know we do," Emily replied, "But, William, my mother went to a psychic before she was going to wed her fiancé at the time, who wasn't my father, and she warned her to call off the wedding. She didn't, and was left at the altar! She met my father and everything was alright, but, still!"  
"Emily, everything is going to be alright," William promised. "I'm sure of it."  
"Please? I know a psychic who is excellent, all of her predictions have come true! Madame Leota is the best in New Orleans," Emily continued to insist.  
"Well, you may be as lovely as a bird but you're stubborn as a bull," William chuckled, "Let's pay this Madame Leota a visit, then."_

_Madame Leota Beaumant was a very enigmatic woman, who seemed to have more power than she let on. When she entered the Gracey house, she seemed to be somewhat ill, complaining of tragedy in the house. William and his uncle both found this outrageous, the house was new, nothing could have happened there. However, William would do anything to make his young bride happy, so they went on with the reading._

_"This house," Madame Leota spoke, in her dignified voice, "is not safe. Much blood will be shed here. If you two do not call off this marriage and stay far away from one another, your blood will be the first."  
"What?" Emily gasped, afraid, "What do you mean?"  
"I mean, miss, that you both are in grave danger, and this marriage cannot continue. He is not who he says he is," she said, pointing at William, "he must suffer for his crimes."   
"Crimes?!" William cried out, "I pay you a good sum to give my fiancée and I our fortune, you come into our house, and you call me a criminal? What is the matter with you, you hag? Get out of this house, now!"   
"You will regret this," the psychic hissed, spitting on the floor of the manor. "Mark my words, the Devil himself will rise from Hell before you are married!"_

_With that, the woman stormed out of the house, muttering strange things under her breath and leaving Emily speechless._

_The wedding still almost went on, with a few major roadblocks. For one, Alistair was found dead, having committed suicide after a short and violent depression. William was the one to find his uncle's body, and upon cutting his uncle's decomposing corpse from the rafters, clung to it and sobbed. This, however, would only be a minor inconvenience compared to what would happen next.  
_

"What happened next I can't exactly say," William explained, "I passed out, I was completely unconscious, and then I woke up on the ground. There was blood everywhere, and the haberdasher was dead!"   
"The what?" Beth asked, horrified and confused. "What do you mean?"  
"The man who was making Emily's wedding veil was beheaded with an axe! And Emily, poor, poor Emily..." William trailed off, horrified. 

_  
He wasn't even one hundred percent sure what had happened. It was the night before the wedding, Emily was at the house, and so was a local hatmaker who was commissioned by the Cavanaughs to make Emily's wedding veil especially for her. William had fallen asleep in a chair, but something...changed. His nightmares that night were vivid, of Hellfire and demons beyond belief, but as he dreamed, something else was in control of his body. He, or whatever was inside of him, pulled him out of his chair, and up to the attic, axe in hand. He found the bride and the haberdasher, and with eyes as black as coals, began to swing his axe. He didn't stop until it was done, blood had splattered everywhere. William then fell to the floor, released of his possession. When he woke up, he panicked. There was blood all over him. Did he kill his true love? And an innocent man? It couldn't have been, but it had to be. He was a monster, a true one, worse than any vampire or ghoul of fiction. He couldn't turn himself into the police, he would be hanged for this! He didn't want to spend his life in prison, a life without Emily. He knew then what he had to do, and took a Flintlock his almost father-in-law had gifted him, and pressed it against his temple._

_William Gracey's body was found the next day by the maid.  
_

Beth was silent. Shocked, horrified, there was no way to explain any of this. Tragedy seemed to run in the family, the Gracey name seemed to be tarnished by blood and death. "So, that was that, huh?" she finally said, somberly.  
"Yes, that was that," William sighed, "It felt like the only way. I think it was that bloody psychic. She must have put a curse on us."  
"A curse?" Beth yelped, "Why?"  
"I can't imagine," he said, angrily. His life was one of vice, one he seemed to regret.   
"William, how many people have you told about this?" Beth asked, hesitantly reaching out and touching his frigid shoulder.   
William responded silently, by simply ponting at Beth. "We should get going," he added, "My uncle is probably waiting for us."  
"Okay," she nodded, and solemnly got up from the chair she was in. The two walked together for a while, before rejoining Alistair and a new person, a young lady with dark brown hair and eyes like Master Gracey's. 

"Lily!" William cried out joyfully, "There you are, dear!"  
"There he is," the woman replied, before turning to Beth and saying, "He hasn't pestered you too much, has he?"  
"No," Beth replied.   
Lily giggled in response, "Be grateful for that. I'm Lillian O'Malley, I'm William's sister. You can call me Lily, everyone does."   
"Beth McDermott," Beth replied with a small smile. "I've heard a lot about you from your brother and uncle."  
"Oh, dear, how much did they tell you?" Lily sighed, "I should only hope you still have a good opinion of me, I know how my brother likes to embarrass me." She then leaned in and whispered, "He's still mad about the fact that I could beat him up even when we were teenagers."   
Beth snickered a bit as Lily winked at her and said, "What do you say to a little girl time? I can imagine the men have been bringing you down a bit. I would love to take you to the garden, but I don't think this weather is good for it. Come on, I can show you the piano room!"  
"If you don't mind," Beth replied.  
"Don't get into too much trouble, Lillian!" Alistair called out to his niece.   
"Of course, Uncle," Lily called back.

Lily grabbed Beth by the wrist and playfully skipped with her as the two went off in a new direction, the storm continuing on outside.


End file.
